


Don't be stupid

by LadyBorgia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBorgia/pseuds/LadyBorgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s lewd and dangerous. The long dagger she carries is displayed on the makeshift belt she wears over black pants and what once might have been a white shirt. Her boots are expensive, tailored from supple hide, and she smiles at you like she knows something dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't be stupid

There are freckles across her nose, and you count them one-by-one.

 

* * *

 

 

The first day you meet her, she starts a fight. A table is kicked into one of the men, a wrist broken of another before she grabs the third person and slams her head into the brick wall. She’s just about to win, when the first comes at her back, and your swords meets against his, pushing him away.

He’s good, experienced, but untrained. Not without difficulty, does your sword disarms him, but he’s nimble on his feet, and before he can grab the jug to throw at your head, you kick him into the bar. He falls to the ground, and you turn away, dodging away from mug thrown to the wall.

“Thank you!” She yells, as one of the men is thrown into a random, starting a large, public brawl in the only drinking hole far enough away from Anya’s unwavering stare. You fight, for the first time since you were seven, in a public place filled with civilians. Then her hand grabs yours, tearing you out of the old building, into the streets. You’re running with her, until you stop, slipping in between two buildings.

“You were good back there,” she grins, fixing the bandana in her hair. “Are you working for someone?”

“Yes.”

“ _Ooh_ , serious type.”

“I am not…” you pause, your breath drawing out a short sigh as you breathe out, feeling the adrenaline leave you. “I’m glad you were unhurt,” you say to her, turning away. It was a mistake coming out tonight.

“You seem pretty fun. Different to what I’m used to. What were you doing back there?”

You turn on your heal, looking to her, “I wanted…an escape,” you admit.

“Well, for messing that up, let me show you my digs.”

 

* * *

 

 

She’s lewd and dangerous. The long dagger she carries is displayed on the makeshift belt she wears over black pants and what once might have been a white shirt. Her boots are expensive, tailored from supple hide, and she smiles at you like she knows something dangerous.

She sleeps in a building, not too far from the markets, on the third floor. There’s blankets and a mattress, slashes of colours are over the wall, as if she tried to paint and couldn’t decide on a colour.

You’re only fourteen, you’ve killed too many people already, and you feel nervous for disobeying Anya as you look around. “Here’s where I sleep, there’s where I keep a pile of clothes, that’s my pet rat, and here is the best look out in the city.”

The rat runs away as she stands proudly before a window, showing off the unattractive sight of another grey brick wall from the opposing window. You look to her, quirking an eyebrow as her smile falters only briefly.

“Alright, so maybe it’s only second best.” You move to look around, watching her walk over to the pile of clothes and pull out a dusty, glass bottle of unknown contents. “Here,” she says. “The label fell off, but I’m sure it’s one of those old drinks from before. I’m Reya, by the way,” she says, opening the bottle to take a swig, before handing it over. “So you know it’s not poisoned.”

“Lexa,” you say. The drink tastes like ash and fire, and then ash again. It’s strange, but not the first drink you’ve had. “Thank you, for…bringing me here.”

“I know it’s not the best place in the capitol, but it’s mine.”

 

* * *

 

 

You sneak off after your days end, over the different weeks, meeting at her in the market place as she argues about the worth of scavenge she’s found in her raids. Every time, Reya’s hair is pulled back in the blue bandana, the dark hair brushes only the top of her shoulders as she manoeuvres around, arguing with different vendors about her wares.

There are large, gold earrings bouncing in her ears as she swears at the people, gesturing to what she has as if it’s something more than bits and pieces of scrap.

She lies, cheats and steals, but she tells you this the first time you play cards. Her smile never wavers, her eyes, gold in the sunlight, sparkle whenever a fight’s about to start. You haven’t had this much fun since before the nightblood was revealed and you were first brought to Polis.

She’s your friend. Your first friend since you were found. The feeling makes your heart beat.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time you’re caught stealing, Anya’s the one to retrieve you from the guards. Her hand grabs your shoulders and shoves you into the wall as your mouth catches in the hiss. It swallows, your eyes going wide, hands tightening by your side at the fierce expression you’ve never seen cross her face.

“If you continued to do this, I will make sure you understand what disobedience means for you.” She takes you back to the others, leaving Reya behind the door, staring at you silently.

 

* * *

 

 

She had six rings on four different fingers. Her hands are calloused as she rubs at your shoulder. “Pretty wound up, eh?” she asks, laughing. “Getting some action?”

A smile crosses your lips, briefly. “Sparring,” you admit.

“Ah, you’re one of the warriors, I take it. Always wondered what you lot did aside from shoo me off my haul.”

Your smile fades, stomach flipping at you swallow back the truth. You like that she doesn’t know, doesn’t stare and speculate. You like running with her through the markets, and staring at the haul she’s brought in, and stopping her from starting fights bigger than she can handle.

You’ve known her for half a year, and she doesn’t know anything about you. Except, you think she sees more than anyone else.

“Yes,” you lie. “I’m a second, actually.”

“To the glare-eyes I met before?”

“Yes,” you reply shortly. “She’s a very skilled warrior.”

“Ooh, bad girl. No wonder you’re always sneaking off to meet me in the middle of the night. I’m such a bad influence on you.”

“You have no influence over me.”

Her hands stop, and you miss the warmth as the cold wind draws through her window. She returns with the dusty bottle of ash and fire. “You take that back,” she says, shoving the bottle in your hand. “I am the absolute worst influence on you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What happened to your parents?” you ask her, one day.

“Died,” Reya shrugs at you. There’s gold sunlight spinning into the window as she stretches on the couch. Her shirt parts open in the movement, revealing dark skin with darker freckles across her shoulder blades. “What about yours?”

“Died. A plague came when I was a child.” They died poorly, their lungs drowning in blood. “Death is necessary.”

“I suppose,” Reya says. “I always thought it was a bit dull, to be honest.” Her head looks at you upside down, hanging from the couch. “Want to do something fun?”

“Is it illegal?”

“I did say the word _fun,_ right?”

You hesitate, you want to refuse but her eyes are alight and you find your hand being dragged out, onto the street, into some building where a group of men and women are playing cards.

 

* * *

 

 

You get hurt when the cards turns into a fight, but Anya isn’t here to see. Gustus is. He’s overlooked yours, and the other’s training. He’s guided and mentored you, specifically.

The disappoint he has, snaps you in your heart. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, bowing your head. He leaves you in the disappoint, wondering if your friendship with Reya is worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

“There’s a drop found not too far from here,” Reya tells you, a few nights later, just about to leave.

“How far?”

“Couple of weeks ride,” she admits. “Maybe longer.”

“That’s not in our territory,” you stop, your thoughts catching up to what’s been said. “You’re leaving.”

“Briefly, for a while. Just until this blows over.”

“You’re leaving,” you repeat again.

“Yeah, I suppose.” She shrugs, packing her back with supplies. “Look, you’re busy being a second, I’ve got stuff to do. So…just be a good girl and do whatever you need to. There’s a war coming up-“

“Which is why you shouldn’t leave,” you tell her.

Reya’s head lifts up, smiling at you. “Didn’t know you cared,” she teases, her smile fading. “You’ve been good to me. I haven’t had that for a while. So, here, you can have the rest of that drink you like so much,” she presses the glass into your hand.

You barely feel it there. “Why are you leaving?”

“Change of air,” she shrugs. “It won’t be long. Two months, tops.”

 

* * *

 

 

You’re fifteen when you see her again. She’s in the markets, and you’re browsing the stores. She didn’t tell you she returned, she didn’t say anything.

There’s a war between the nations. The Ice Nation, ruthless, has marched onto your lands. Anya left only a few days prior. You are to follow within two nights. Your life could end, and yet you watch Reya, allowing the feelings of lost friendship to sway your mind away from the matters at hand.

You only came out for a walk to clear your head.

You leave her to wander the stores alone, the feeling in your chest hollow and painful. She left for six months. You thought she died.

It doesn’t matter.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey,” she smiles, big and wide. “ _You_ never told me you were one of those nightblood warriors.” She’s standing in your room, her eyebrows wiggling up and down as if she only left yesterday. “Do you guys get busy when the candles are blown out or is all it just mood lighting?”

“How did you get up here?”

“Snuck past the guards, climbed through a window. _Ooh_ , dropped through the ventilation shaft?” Despite the feeling in your chest, you can’t help but smile as she pushes from the wall and steps over to you. “You ran away from me in the markets, you know.”

“I…didn’t think you noticed me.”

“Hard not to. You _brood_ everywhere.”

Your eyebrows pull together at the english word. “I do not ‘brood’.”

“You _do_ , you’re doing it right now. See!”

Sighing, you turn away, a sharpness pricking at your chest. You have to leave tomorrow. “I’m busy, I have things to attend to before I sleep.”

“What? Like war tactics, boring. Let me take you somewhere _fun_.”

“No, Reya. I’m busy.”

Reya’s mouth parts, before closing. “You’re angry that I left for six months, aren’t you?”

“No,” you tell her, slowly turning to look as her, composing your anger deep into your chest. “I wish you to leave, and you are refusing my request.”

“Fine. I just…wanted to give you this.” She steps over, placing it onto the table and leaves the room. You wait until the door shuts before you look at it.

 

* * *

 

 

In battle, you feed your anger through your sword arms. You feel death brush your skin more than once, and each time you survive.

Anya’s hand clasps against your shoulders as she points to where the reapers are on the map. Her approval means much to you, but it’s not enough.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been two months since you were last in Polis, and yet you find yourself walking to a building, close to the markets. Slowly, you lean against the door, cradling your damaged arm as your injured leg eases. You knock with loosely with a hand and listen as she swears crudely behind it.

Reya opens the door slowly, a flicker of surprise passing over her expression. “You’re back.” A smile tugs to the side of your lips at the sound of her voice.

“Well, don’t get emotional,” you tease.

“Shut up.” Her eyes sparkle, dully in the flickering candlelight. “Want to play a round of cards, and drink?”

You smile and the door opens wider, allowing you entry into a place that feels more like a home than yours does.

You play until the night grows heavy, and your eyes droop, falling asleep on her mattress, listening to her snore lightly as she sleeps on the shredded lounge with only two of the three cushions still on the red faded fabric. You can see her hand still clutching at a half drunk bottle, new scars branded onto her arm.

It almost feels right.

 

* * *

 

 

You wake up to a knife against your throat and Reya speaking furiously to a tall, dark man, her anger prominent.

Slowly, she turns to look at you, her hands wild and different to how she usually talks with them. There are three men in the room. One at the door, one speaking about _debts_ to Reya, and one with a knife to her throat.

You wait, then grabs the dagger from underneath the pillow, stabbing it into the arm of the man, before ripping it out. The fight starts and ends quickly, with two of the three men leaving the room. The last one lies in a puddle, ruining Reya’s favourite shirt she left in the corner.

“ _Damn_ ,” she curses. “I really liked that one. It was _almost_ white.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t think I should be here,” you admit to her after the second time a debt causes a knife to your throat. “I may be the next Heda and getting murdered because of-”

“I know,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, I’ll get my crap together. You shouldn’t be involved.” Your lips press together before you let out a sigh.

“I’m your friend.”

“Which is stupid of you, you know?”

“I don’t think so.” You smile, then turn away. “How about a game of cards?”

 

* * *

 

 

“There’s a…there’s a haul not too far away. It’s dangerous, but it’ll fix this,” she tells you, one late night.

“Where?”

“It’s not far, just over a few leagues away.”

“It’s near Mount Weather.”

Her expression softens, and she stares at you. “I’ll get my shit together, okay?”

“There’s no point if you get killed,” you tell her. “Don’t be stupid, just…”

“Get a job? Don’t be ridiculous, I only know how to lie, cheat and steal.” She steps forward then, her calloused fingers wrapping around your own. “Don’t look so worried about me or I’ll start thinking you actually care.”

“I do care.”

“Then you’re the stupid one, aren’t you?” she smiles, letting go of your hand. “Now, because of all this serious talk, I need to get my drink on. You up for a round of cards?”

 

* * *

 

 

A messenger comes to your door, delivering the urgent message. You leave before anyone can stop you, arriving at the doorway to find her covering the wound around her waist. “Problem solved,” she whispers, trying to sit up.

“Lie down. I’ll get someone-“

“No.”

“Lie _down_ ,” you command. There’s a powerful moment, before her lips twist, “don’t get me all hot and bothered now, I’m in no place to do anything.” The words wheeze out, sweat pooling on her forehead.

You does the best you can, then you get a healer.

 

* * *

 

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” she tells you one night. “You get this crinkle in your forehead.” She’s healing, slowly, but healing. There’s still a risk of infection, but she gets a nice scar for all her worries.

You fall asleep, with her head in your lap, your hands stroking down the dark hair. It’s the first time you’ve seen it out of her bandana. You like it.

 

* * *

 

 

“So,” she tells you drunkly. “If you become my heda, that means you’re like…queen.”

“No, no, not a queen, just…I’ll just be… _heda_.”

“Queen of nations!”

“No,” you whisper. The world spins, and you smile. “No, I don’t want to be queen, I don’t want to lead, I want…”

“Shhh, you can get me off _all_ the crimes, because, because, you’re my _friend_!”

“I’m your _friend!_ ”

“Yeah. You’re my friend.”

 

* * *

 

 

Your sixteen when you become Heda. You’re sixteen when, after the ceremony is done, Reya appears in your new room, without previously been told where it is. You’re sixteen, pushing your emotions down and standing in the door way.

She stands, smiles at you and whispers, “congratulations are in order, I see.”

“Reya-“

You’re sixteen when your friend walks over, her fingers brushing down your ceremonial armour as she entwines her fingers and squeezes. “Thank you.”

She kisses your cheek and leaves, your throat swelling at the goodbye. She doesn’t explain why, but you both knew that this day, if it came, would end your friendship. You didn’t expect it so soon.

You’re sixteen when you feel your heart break for the first time.

 

* * *

 

 

Had Anya been here, she would have told you that you were being foolish allowing your feelings to cloud what you know to be true. Having such feelings for someone like her will only lead to a dangerously weak leadership.

Gustus doesn’t say anything when he sees you. He stares and stares until you demand an answer. “You’re in love,” is all he says.

You glare at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

* * *

 

 

Your leadership starts off badly, and Gustus informs you as such. The people don’t trust you as they should. Rumours have spread of your involvement with someone. They believe you too young to become the new Heda, though you are not the youngest, by any stretch. There are many times your spirit has chosen a younger soul, but the people’s mistrust begins with their fears of your juvenility, so Gustus believes.

Rumours have spread like wildfire over you acting like a fool in love, though such actions are most certainly lies. Perhaps it relates to your heartbreak, or it is simply propaganda to uplift you from your position, weaken the Trikru.

Someone dares to have the audacity to mock you in your own hallway, in front of your own guard. You nearly kill him to make a point, staring him in the eye at your hand constricts around his throat, your dagger in his hand, pinning it to the wall.

When you’re finished, you pull your dagger away, leaving him to his own survival. It’s a while before anything significant happens again.

 

* * *

 

 

On a whim, with a scarf draped over your head, you slip out in the night and find yourself at Reya’s door. She isn’t home, and the feeling of foolishness feels your chest. She’s left, moved on to some new clan to find new hauls. But as you leave the building, you see walk by.

“Reya,” you call.

Her head lifts, a smile breaking over her face before freezing in the spot. “What in the world are you doing here! You can’t be-“ she grabs you, thrusting you against the wall, in the shadows of the hallway. “What if someone sees you?”

“They’ll see me taking a stroll, then.”

“No, they’ll see you with _me_ and get ideas about what’s going on between us that-“ she stops, staring at you. “We need to get out of the hall.” Grabbing your hand, she drags up and up the flight of stares, into her room and thrusts you inside.

You haven’t been treated as such since before you became Heda. It’s different, it’s not disrespectful, but it’s not respectful, either.

“Now, what in the many worlds were you thinking?”

“I needed to see you,” you admit, feeling foolish for saying it now. It is a ridiculous act, you shouldn’t have come. You stand tall, gathering you pride as you fix the scarf on your head.

A hand reaches out then, pressing over your shoulder, holding you in place. “I needed to see you,” you say again, without any more explanation behind it. That is the whole of the reason you came.

There’s a softness in her face, a tiredness from something else, and…a vulnerability you’ve never seen before. “Don’t be stupid,” she whispers as you step closer.

She hesitates briefly, her lips parting to exhale a soft breath, before her eyes close, your lips coming to press upon hers.

Her lips are chapped and raw. You can feel a bruise forming on her lower lip as you kiss over the cut, your teeth dragging over the abrasion, as you hear her hiss. Then you’re meeting her lips with everything you have, feeling yourself unravel, the scarf drop from your hair, as her fingers entangle in it, and your heart beats as you realise how long, how hard you’ve wanted this and refused to allow the moment to happen. Refused to give in.

You stop, pulling away to stare at her. She hesitates, her mouth letting out a short exhale as her eyes stare into yours.

“We can’t,” she says, stepping away so her fingers drop from your hair. “I don’t _do_ this.”

“Women?” you ask, a moment of shyness slipping into your voice as you wonder how badly you misjudged the situation.

“Relationships, and least of all with a heda. I could get my head chopped off if I break your heart! Or pushed through a window or- because I will, I will break your heart, I-I- can’t be…” she stops, and you watch her bounce on her toes nervously. “ _Lexa_ ,” she says, her expression absolutely vulnerable. “I have to lea-“

You kiss her again, and the words mumble and soften against your mouth, fading away until her arms slide over your shoulders and you feel her stand on her tip toes to kiss you harder.

You can feel her dagger on her hips, the softness of her belt against your fingertips, against the coarse material of her clothes. “You’re an idiot,” she whispers, against your mouth.

 

* * *

 

 

She kisses your back in a lazy evening as you think over your plan. “I’m going to unite us,” you tell her. “The war with the Ice Nation has gone on for too long. If we outnumber them, push them back far enough, they’ll be more open to a truce.”

“I know.”

“I’ve already sent an emissary to Floukru, they’ll be the easiest to convince. Then Sankru and-“ Reya’s fingers slides over your sides, her lips brushing over your spine. “You’re trying to distract me. I need to…”

“You’ve been working all day, you need to relax.”

“I need to work out a plan. Broadleaf-“

“I know some things about them, okay? Including their leader. I used to go through the clans, learn their ways. They, for one, are in need of that flower that grows in Sankru territory.” Her touch is soft, light and purposeful in where it slides. “I can tell you more, if you want?”

“Play _fair_ , Reya.”

“I never promised to play fair.”

 

* * *

 

 

There’s months of work and late nights. Reya stares at you as you pour over information. “This has to go well,” you say, your pace walking up and down the stretch of your tent, hands at your side. “This will go well,” you tell yourself.

“Of course, Heda,” Gustus says.

“You’ll be fine, you have two more clans agreed to a truce. That’s no small feat,” Reya says.

“Please, do not flatter me over such things. The dialogue between us has been open for three generations. The Boat People are the most ready for a truce, but-“ you stop, hands pulling behind your back as you swallow back your fears. This is the first clan that’s different. Broadleaf is different.

“Just remember what I told you,” Reya smiles, her smile is big and wide, at ease with the world as she picks nuts from the bowl in your tent. Reya, nomadic in her lifestyle, wanders through most clans easily. The Broadleaf is the first one of many that you opt to speak with, only because it once was Reya’s home for many years.

“You’re right, my fears have no place here.”

 

* * *

 

 

Over time, you work hard to learn the different clans, their wants and needs. Slowly, you find yourself spending less time with Reya. She starts going on hauls as you opt to meet in neutral locations for the different clans, having them meet with you, with each other.

Ice Nation grows restless and battles come and go. Numbers growing and depleting faster than you want. The Mountain Men and the reapers too, come to attack your people.

It both brings you together and divides you with the clans. If you could defeat the mountain, you would be appraised.

There is no plan.

 

* * *

 

 

“You can _not_ go to war.”

You stare at her, watching her pace the room. “It’s stupid, you’re _stupid_.”

“I’m not-“

“You _are_. You’ll die, you’ll die and your soul will go to some…some _kid_ who I can’t love any more because I love you and need you here.”

* * *

 

“Reya-“

“Costia,” she says, all at once. Her eyes blinking back tears. “It’s…it’s Costia, I lied to you when we first met, I thought you…I never…” she takes a breath, “I’ve been using the name for years, and I…I don’t want you to die with some stupid name I chose to hide the fact that…that I’m not one of your people. I’m…”

“I know,” you tell her. “I’ve known for a while now.” She’s trembling, and afraid. Slowly, you step over and kiss her lips softly. “I’m _very_ good at what I do,” you tell her. She laughs, hiccuping the tears as she looks away.

“Now look at what you’ve done to me.”

“I’m coming back.”

“You’re still an idiot, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

She should have had Costia executed when she found out the truth, or at the least, banished. She’d been speaking with Sankru when the truth had been revealed by a spy. She’s banished, there are actions against her to great to number. Murder, theft, cheating, debts. Nothing bad, nothing _really_ bad.

But it was enough.

She pardoned the crimes. It wasn't loud, but it was done openly. It had been a mistake to do so.

 

* * *

 

 

You’re eighteen when she leaves. She’s found a new haul, somewhere close by. According to her sources, it’s relatively untouched. She’s excited, bouncing on her toes, “This is the one,” she says, “I’m going to find something to leave my mark on the world.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Of course not, that’s your specialty,” she says, leaning down to kiss you in bed. “Don’t be stupid,” she tells you, leaving a smile on your lips that echoes in your heart all day. “I’ll be home soon. Before you know it!”

You get word of her capture after a week.

 

* * *

 

 

As you hold the fire in your hand, you feel your heart grow silent, staring at the head they returned to you. There are freckles across her nose, and you count them one-by-one as you place the fire down over her body. "Yu gonplei ste odon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, she's totally based off Isabela. I wanted to write a relationship with a back and forth tug, that wasn't perfect, wasn't right, not yet. But in the end, they didn't really get the chance.


End file.
